And then. It's gone.
If I hold my breath, close my eyes, pray, wish, daydream; I can almost reach it.
And then. I exhale.
I say it out loud. I say it to myself. I talk in my sleep.
And then. I awaken.
If I am honest with myself, I know that I want to live intimately. Need to live intimately. But in that honesty I realize that I may not know how. I long for closeness, and yet find paralysis in attention. I crave affection yet push away romance. I am alone, but not lonely. I am lonely, but not alone.
And perhaps only a woman can relate to the dissonance repeating in upending tones. Or maybe I shouldn't pull women into my madness. But why can't I make up my damn mind? Some days I feel so certain. Certain that I have made many mistakes. Certain that I will regret these mistakes. Certain that my longing will never cease. Other times I am equally certain that they are not mistakes, rather chapters which will ultimately lead to falling action and resolution.
I don't pretend there is a "happily ever after." I know better, and I dare not dream for such. However, there is a version, a version I can see...when my breathing slows and my mind clears, one that resembles the happy ending.
I don't fault myself for having optimism. Or even for living with doubt. It is through these questions that one day, I believe, I will find my truth.